How This Became That
by hideousbeauty
Summary: I told my friend that I would write her the saddest fanfic that I could think of. So, I'm putting in everything sad that I can think of.Rated for language and later events. It's multiship. Sebtana friendship in the end.  Read chapter titles.
1. Sebastian

Hazel eyes are calling from across the room. Legs are moving on their own. Something's pulling, something unseen. It's almost as if the world has stopped in this instant.

Reality comes back as crude remarks are yelled across the room. Then the eyes are further away until they're out of view. Now a dark bathroom is coming into play. Being forced to the ground in front of a man is the next part. Now you know what to do.

It's a practiced art, one you know too well, and as your eyes close, your throat relaxes, and your head moves, the hazel eyes play in your thoughts.

You can't face him now.

Finally you're allowed to leave, and this time you're lucky. This time there were only three. You do as they say and pray things go faster, and eventually you're given permission to get up off the floor.

You leave the room and look around; he's gone, thankfully. Now you don't have to show him the broken look on your shamed face. You run your hand through your hair and head for the door, no longer in the mood for this place. The lights and music send you into a state where your head hurts, and even though there are tons around, you feel as if everyone is staring at you.

When you leave though, you're not expecting to be pulled away from the entrance by strong hands. You go to cry out, but there's a hand there. You know what's coming next. Someone else here to use your body in some way. You're dragged away just a few feet, and your back meets the wall of the building. You don't fight. You never fight anymore. You keep your head low, waiting to be told what to do.

Then you feel a hand under your chin.

You look up, meeting hazel eyes. Your mouth opens, but there are no words to be said.

"I've been looking for you," that melodic voice is quiet, meant only for your ears. You almost break, but soon remember who you are to him.

Shaking out your shoulders some, you look at his face, but are unable to meet his eyes again. "And did you have a reason to?" You would usually flirt, be all over him. He's alone right now, but for how long? Not that it had ever mattered before, but tonight you just can't bring yourself to it. No clever comebacks, nothing mean to say even comes to mind. You wonder if you look as broken as you feel; you wonder if he'd even notice.

Of course he would. It was him.

It was part of the reason you were in love with him.

His eyes search your face, and you wonder what his own says. Does he see it? Is it written across your face? You need to fix that then. You can't let anyone see you like this- especially not him. Not now. You straighten up, pushing of the building and smoothing down your shirt. You cross your arms over your chest and give him an expecting look.

He softens, perhaps fooled by your change in demeanor, yet part of you doesn't believe that. He gives you a look over before pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket. A ticket. He doesn't say anything, simply smiles and walks away with a nod.

You look down. It's a ticket to the concert they're having to gain some more support for their little glee club. You scoff some, looking down and debating throwing it away. But you stop. You know you're going. He knew you'd come. There wasn't a doubt in either or your minds- except why he would be giving it to you in the first place.

You look after him as he joins up with that irritating boyfriend of his. You roll your eyes, sighing and stuffing the ticket into your pocket before walking towards your own car.

As you get your door open, another hand is grabbing you.


	2. Jesse

The most beautiful girl in the world. Too perfect for anything anyone could ever offer. Too talented for the stage she was confined to. That's who she was. You knew it better than anyone. She was nervous, as were you. She was stuck on the last time she was supposed to get married. She was sure something horrible was to happen again.

She still called out to the blonde girl in her sleep.

You're sure that she settled for you, but the blonde girl was gone. What else could either of you do? The point of it all now was that you were marrying her. And she was on her way.

When the car hit.

You rushed to the hospital as soon as they informed you. But it was too late. You didn't even get there in time to tell her goodbye.

And now you sit there in the apartment you shared together. You keep her ring on a chain around your neck. You won't change anything about the decorations or anything. Everything stays the same as the last day she was there. You know it's sad. You know you should do the dishes; the cat needs to be taken care of as well. You haven't sang or played an instrument since that day. You haven't stopped crying since you first fell on the couch you were still on now.

You were pathetic, and you didn't even care.

You had lost her. The one person who had ever meant as much to you as your own self did. You conceited, arrogant bastard.

A glass hits the wall and shatters. You stare at it, almost as if you're not sure how it happened. Your touch on this world was fading fast, and you weren't sure how to take grasp of it again. You're not sure if you wanted to anymore.

"It's bad luck for you to see me before the wedding," she had chimed, her mind obviously drifting back to what everyone had been telling her that first time.

You smiled and shook your head over the phone. You let her do what she wanted. Was it to get on her good side more than the blonde had? Or was it simply because you knew she was going to anyhow?

But either way, if you had kept her on that phone just a few minutes longer, what all could have been prevented? What all would have changed? Would you still have her? Would she be your wife-stuck in an unhappy marriage where you tried to prove yourself to her and change her mind every day?

It took you losing her to see how selfish you were.

The universe had a cruel way of telling you how to live your life, to teach you a lesson.

But now what? Now you were nothing.

Was that so much better, Universe?

You weren't so sure. You were sure that you should have died that day, but… Then what would have become of her?

Her mind had been leaving her for months now. She was slowly giving into her depression, and it was not a forgiving thing. It warped her sense of reality- almost as it was doing to you now. She began forgetting things, and soon, she wasn't allowed to return to work. She would forget her lines, then where she was going. Soon she had forgotten your name, but you had one thing no one else did. She never forgot your face.

Now she was out of her misery, at the very least.

Perhaps now, she could find rest with the blonde again in whatever place their souls ended up in. You were sure it was somewhere, somewhere they could both be happy now. But since she was taken, you didn't for a second believe there was a 'god' anymore. What kind of god would take such a bright and shining star and turn her into whatever she had become before killing off the heroine completely?

No. There was no god.


	3. Santana

You were a failure already. Senior year of high school, you dropped out. You became addicted to those drugs, the ones you could get hold of. You weren't even sure now what they were. Hindsight, you should have never put anything into your body that you weren't even sure what it was, but it was far too late now, wasn't it?

You were hooked.

You tried to bring your life back around. You got your GED, you got into law school, and things were looking up again.

Until the stress got to you. Until you failed out of college in your first year.

Now where do you go? Not back to your parents. They've disowned you. That happened forever ago, back to a time you can barely remember. Back when the real you was still at least half here. Back when you told them that you were in love with her.

Her.

Where was she now? Who knows. She left you once you got your little problem. You knew she would.

They all leave, don't they?

There was that boy once. He said he would be your friend. He took you in when you were down. He said he would help get you clean and give you a place to live. You remembered him from high school, how he used to be. Now he had money, now he held you like you were precious. He said he'd stay. He'd be there for you. You'd already lost so much before then. You bought into his story quickly, and you fel fast for his story.

But neither of you could stop the withdrawals.

Soon you were stealing from him, selling his things for money. You knew that eventually he was going to notice. It'd be hard not to. You knew he would say something. It wasn't in his nature to ignore it. But at that time?

You didn't care.

You sold item after item and got your fix. You lied to him about how clean you were. You smiled when he would complement how well you were doing. You'd cringe inwardly when he told you how proud he was.

That's when he noticed his grandfather's watch missing.

You were out on the street in no time. He was yelling at you from the door as he threw your things at you.

"Puck, please!" You begged, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't blame him. You had no right to be asking for forgiveness. As the rain began to fall, his door slammed shut.

And then you were alone again. As you walked the street, you wondered if it was people leaving, or you pushing them away. You were, after all, something to be hated. You knew that. You'd known that for years.

Maybe it was just easier to blame other people.

But now you had no one to blame. You had no one. Period. Where were you going to go now?

That underpass looks dry…


	4. Brittany

You. You are nothing.

You are a murderer.

You don't deserve to be talked about.

Your story shouldn't be here.

You are lower than anything.

No one cares to hear your story.

No one cares about you.

Drag that rusty blade back through your skin.

Watch the warm liquid rush from your arms, from your legs into the once white porcelain of the sink. Watch as you expect for the feeling of release to wash your problems away with the blood. Be disappointed as you remember that the feeling had stopped coming long ago.

No one cares about you.

You break the mirror with your fists.

There more blood.

More release.

Right?

No.

A mess.

Blood.

Tears.

No numb feeling now until it's from lack of blood.

A sick smile plays across your features.

There.

That's what you deserve.

No one cares about you.

You're a monster. You get everything that you deserve. No. Not enough.

Lie down in the bathtub then.

You debate turning on the water. Debate letting it take you away as your breathing stops and your lungs fill with the cold, clear liquid.

But you're scared.

Of course you are.

You can take the life of another, of the most innocent thing in the world, but you're terrified to do it to yourself. You don't deserve this life.

It's wasted on you.

You think back.

You thought he used you at the time. You thought you were the victim. You know differently now. You saw the mark turn pink. And you didn't even think twice.

You knew it would ruin your body; you knew what career you had would be over.

So you killed it. Him? Her? You'll never know. You don't deserve to know.

It was cut from you.

And now you cut the flesh it would have been born from.

This blood was its. You're wasting it now, but you don't deserve for it to be in your veins.

No one cares about you.

You've called your mother many times now. She won't leave him. She doesn't even pick up now. They ignore you. Let you bleed.

You were fired. You can't hide scars when you're standing there nude.

Now what?

Now this.

Now another cut.

Now more blood.

Now the tears.

Always regrets.

Do you remember?

How happy you used to be.

Then your cat died.

You warned him to stop.

The magic died.

And it took you with it.

You try to think, think of people you use to know. Maybe you can get help from them. No. No, you know you can't do that.

You cry as you remember your friend, the cheerleader girl who was killed while she texted and sped to a wedding that never happened.

You call the dive girl. Only for her remaining father to tell you about her death on her way to marry that St. James guy.

Puckerman's on tour before the cancer takes him.

Finn's got five children and no wife, leaving for the military with no place for the children.

Kurt and Blaine have their phones cut off.

Think.

Who else do you know?

Her.

No.

Not her.

You throw your phone. Watch as it smashes against the wall.

No one cares about you.

You don't even care about you.


End file.
